Doodling in the Margins
by manicmethod
Summary: In a world as simple as Black and White, its easy to feel conflicted and trapped. In a single bout of freedom, a young Jadelyn West meets a girl she will one day reshape the world with. "I wanted it to be easy. Black and White. Simple as. But we humans are such complex beings. We can't ever forget out the in-between parts, the greys, and the Margins."


_There is no black-and-white situation. It's all part of life. Highs, lows, middles._  
_-Van Morrison_

* * *

My story doesn't have a happy beginning. It has a pretty happy middle. There is no ending, not yet anyway. When I finally die, then it's the end. So I had to decide to put an ending somewhere. No, I'm not going to kill myself. I'm quite enjoying life now that she's here. But like I said, I had to put an end somewhere, and that somewhere is about two years ago, after all the craziness that became reality for a while ended. I'm not going to tell you about that yet though, because like I said, it's the end, not the start. I'm going to start at the beginning.

I was born Valkyrie Jadelyn West. I know what you're thinking, but it's not as if I came up with it. My mother died in childbirth, so my father named me Valkyrie, after the Norse legends of the valkyrie, who allegedly chose the survivors and victims of war. Looking at it now, I suppose he was a bit sour, how I lived and my mother didn't, but it wasn't as if it were my fault. My mother's name was Jadelyn. My name is no longer Valkyrie Jadelyn West. It's just Jade now. Where I am, we have no need for family labels. Or rather, we are not honored with them.

I was born in the year A.D. 2387, in the month of July, on the twenty-sixth day. It is now 2325, making me 18 in a few weeks. Like I said earlier, I didn't have a happy beginning. My father treated me like dirt, still angered over my mother's passing. I don't know if he actually loved her, or if it was only for appearances. All I know is that his beatings sure felt real. I was a part of the "Noble White" faction. In our faction, it was the norm to discipline children through harsh means. You were also expected to marry by 17, usually arranged. Like my parents. Like I was supposed to be.

I'll explain more about factions. There are only two: Noble White, and Solitary Black. The whole world is divided as such. See, about two hundred years ago, the world was torn apart by a nuclear war. There were two main sides, those who believed in a world united under one leader, whose word would be law, and those who wanted control to be shared, where they could be free and steer their own lives.

After the chaos, the land was tainted (many thought it to be the Judgment by God, and so the horrific event is now called Armageddon). A serum had been invented prior to the disaster, to protect against the effects of the mass-radiation. But the man who invented it, a pacifist named Bartholomew Stride, refused to hand it over, unless his conditions were met. Those conditions being that the two warring sides were to live together, or at least exist without strife side-by-side. They agreed, and the Treaty of Stride was written up and signed by representatives of both sides.

Those who favored a world united under one leader went on to become the Noble White Faction. Those who wanted freedom of expression and independence became the Solitary Black faction. When the two were official, the world was split in half vertically. The boundaries were where what had been known as North America was, and the old continent of Asia. Large walls called "Margins" were erected to prevent crossing between the two halves. They were heavily guarded, night and day, and covered most of the world. The parts they don't cover are still closed off from the rest of the world. Not by walls, however, but by social barriers.

There are three names for the different lands. The Land of White, or "The Imperium", The Land of Black, "Terra Libera" and The Land of the Outcast "Domus Umbra." That's all. No continents, states, counties, countries, anything. Only cities and towns.

So that's life as I knew it. Black and White. White were perfectionists. They wouldn't tolerate impurities. I was an impurity, a stain. I would have been better in Black, I think, but whatever you're born into, you're stuck in. Black and White. If only the world were truly that simple.

* * *

Let me tell you a treasured memory from my childhood. About seven years ago, I think.

I was running faster than I ever had before. My heart was thumping blood so hard around my body it almost hurt. But I couldn't stop, I wouldn't. For once I felt free. I felt strong. I leapt over and swerved around any obstacles, ducking and diving, jumping and flying. Such is how running for the sake of running seemed. As I ran faster and faster, further and further away from the stifling, restricting limits of Imperia City, I imagined myself a butterfly. The city was my cast-off cocoon, and I was the delicate creature, spreading my wings for the first time. I was alive.

I soon left the city behind in my wake, but it didn't occur to me to stop. As long as I was breathing, I was determined to keep running, forever if I could. I had deluded myself into thinking I was free, invincible. So I decided to do something incredibly reckless and stupid. I started to make my way toward the edge the Prime Margin.

I must have been going for hours. I had stopped to catch my breath every once in a while, but there was seven or so years of pent-up energy waiting to be unleashed. Looking back on it now, I wonder why a search party hadn't been sent to find me. Doubtless my father hadn't even noticed my absence yet.

I remember being able to see the edge of the Margin. There were no guards up this far, figuring there was no need for them. I was one of the few who felt tied down by the protocols of The Imperium. I was the only one too young and naïve to realize the danger a black wolf could pose to a white lamb who had wandered too far from her flock.

I glanced back every now and then, trying to see how far I had travelled. At just the right angle I could she the reflection of the setting sun in the pristine white cityscape of Imperia. As I got closer to the edge of the margin, I noticed quite a bit of sand and dust. I became fascinated by this for a while. I had never seen something so…natural, raw; unrestrained by the laws of man. For a while, I wanted to be dirt. Not metaphorically, I actually wanted to be dirt, like a small child might want to be a dog when they grow up. I loved how my shoes left tracks, how I could let my imagination run wild, and make patterns. If I made a mistake, I could simply cover it over and start again, without worry. If I made a mistake with my pen back home, it had to be crossed out with a red pen, using a ruler. The line would have to stretch a millimeter further than the word in each direction, and I would be slapped across the wrists for good measure. No tolerance for accidents and mishaps.

I continued on my journey. When I was finally as close to the Margin as I wanted to be, I stopped. I didn't quite pass it. At my young age I had heard and believed to rumors about cannibals from Terra Libera. Now I know it was such a silly fear, because, as I was about to find out, the Liberans were really no different from us. At least, the one I know isn't.

I still remember every tiny detail about the moment I first saw her. The sun had half-disappeared behind the curve of the Earth, casting a strange but comforting orange glow across the dessert (because that's really what it is). I remember palming my hand on the cold hard concrete of the Prime Margin. It was spotless, like the inhabited parts of The Imperium, except the wall was grey, not purest white. I was just standing there, my hand against the wall, when she suddenly voiced her presence.

"Who are you?" I jumped and whipped my head around to the direction of the voice. The girl only smirked. I guessed she was older than me by at least a few years. Her skin was tanned, her eyes a rich chocolate brown and her dark-brown wavy hair reached her lower back. But what really got me excited were her clothes.

In my own white dress (although now covered in a healthy layer of red dust), the hair pulled back from my head with a white bow, not a strand out of place, and my pure silver bangle, this girl (whom I still hadn't answered) embodied everything I wanted to be. Her torn skinny jeans, paint-splattered tee-shirt, black leather jacket, and worn boots that looked as though they were held together by duct tape. Her hair was a mess. She had streaks of violet running through it, and I could see several feathers embedded in those thick locks. It took a few moments for me to notice the marking on the back of her hand, and only when she had awkwardly started to toy with a strand of her hair.

The Mark of Populi was inked in black on her hand. It made clear what I had already half-suspected. She was of the Solitary Black faction. An enemy. A threat. Someone to hurt me. And yet, something nagged at the back of my mind. If she had wanted to hurt me, she could have done so already. I wouldn't let myself think she was one of those sick people who wanted me to suffer. She didn't seem like the type anyway, in spite of her outward appearance. There was something in her eyes. Something that was calming, kind, gentle. It made me feel safe and warm.

I finally cleared my throat to speak.

"Valkyrie Jadelyn West, but my daddy said not to talk to strangers, so I wanna go now," I mumbled.

"Honey, you're gonna hafta speak up. I didn't catch a word of that, except your name, which kinda sucks, no offense," she replied coolly, "I think I'll call you Jade," she said absently, as if commenting about the weather.

"But I-"

"So we both agree. Well then Jade, how's it going?" she cut me off and stuck out a slightly grubby hand, before doing a double take, wiping said hand on her jeans in a vain attempt to clean it, and offering it to me again, "My name's Victoria Louise Vega, but everybody calls me 'Tori', 'kay?" I didn't take her hand.

"Um-" I had tried again, but Tori didn't seem to want me to get a word in, about to cut me off again.

"Yeah, I lied about not hearing you, by the way. We're not strangers anymore though, are we? I mean, I know your name, and you know mine. You even know my nickname. I think that makes us friends, don't you?"

"I-"

"Awesome. Besides, I know you're not a daddy's girl," she said, winking at me, "If you were, you wouldn't even be here, would you? I mean, if he said not to talk to strangers, I'm guessing somewhere down the line he said not to wander all the way out here, right? So since you're here anyway, what harm can breaking a few more rules do?" she finished with a proper smile. I think that's when I realized she was right. We were already friends. That smile wasn't something you get from strangers, it was real. It made me happy just looking at her. I smiled back.

"So we're friends?" I asked excitedly. She winked again and reached over to ruffle my hair.

"'Course we are kiddo."

* * *

That's when my life began. When I met Tori. At least, that's where my story begins, because I'm sure you don't want to hear about the far less exciting parts of my childhood. After that day, we agreed to meet up once a week. The next week I had come by I saw her with a red aerosol can clenched in her hand, and she was frowning at the Margin as she defaced it. The focus she put into it made me think it would be some kind of masterpiece. It wasn't. It was a star, that's all. A sketch. A doodle in the Margin.

* * *

**Oh dear. Here I am again, biting off more than I can chew. Oh dear oh dear. I should be doing Masquerade, but I'm not. You wanna know why? Because I came up with this idea on the bus yesterday, and it turned out to be one of those stories that just effortlessly flows onto the page from my brain. You know those awesome ones? It was one of those ideas. I quite like this story though. This is my first time writing a dystopian-future kind of story, so I hope it wasn't too bad. I was inspired to do a Sci-Fi Jori story when I started reading 'Glitch in the system' by Torrentiality. you guys should go read it, it's AWESOME!**

**I'm sorry if the start is kinda boring, but I wanted to do all the explanations first, please let me know if it is really slow, I tried to make it interesting but... ugh...**

**Also, I didn't quite make it clear with my description of Imperia, but as I write this I imagine it in a steampunk kind of setting. Just to let you know. **

**This story will be irregularly updated because my main priority is Masquerade. So you might wanna add it to your alerts list if you wanna follow. A review or two might make me write the next chapter faster if you get my hint.**

**There is a lot of strange Latin words in this story:**

_**Imperium- A place ruled by and Emporer or Empress**_

_**Imperia was derived from Imperium. As far as I know, I made it up.**_

_**Terra Libera- Free World (I think, I can't exactly remember)**_

_**Liberan was derived from Libera. Again, I made it up.**_

_**Domus Umbra- Shadow House**_

_**Populi- people (mark of Populi can be found on my profile, drew it myself)**_

**If you read this chapter again for whatever reason, you should listen to Chicago Morning by Hauschka during the 'flashback'. It really helps set the mood.**

**R&R**

**~V.S.**


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